You Remind Me
by White Moon Goddess
Summary: One shot. Three years ago, Arnold was broken. Can he find peace with a new woman? Based on Usher's "You Remind Me"


You Remind Me  
  
It's on days like this that I feel lower than the ground I walk. The sounds of New York City still flood the air, even though the sun is setting over the hundreds of spikes that jut out of the ground. If I were closer to the center of Manhattan, the air would also be flooded with the smells of rotting garbage and cigarette smoke, but since I'm only a block from Central Park, it smells more like various flowers. It's one of those sultry summer evenings that Shakespeare would describe as a time for lovers. That's why I hate it. That sky, positively glowing red, and the smell of those flowers, overpoweringly strong. They still remind me.  
God, I'm so pathetic. You'd think after three years I'd be over her. I mean, I'm Arnold: the overly enthusiastic optimist with a never-say-die attitude towards life, never disheartened by an obstacle. But here I am, walking these city streets, still with thoughts of her in my head.  
The worst part of it all is that I never saw it coming. The thought never even passed through my mind. I can't believe that Lila, my Lila…  
  
I need a drink.  
  
I never used to drink. I never needed to, past the obligatory glass of champagne at New Year's or wine at a particularly spectacular dinner. Now…well, I've discovered the therapeutic properties of alcohol. So now, on my way home from work at least twice a week, I stop in at Larry's. Larry is actually a great guy, doesn't ask a lot of questions.  
As I step into the old building, the smell of beer and peanuts hits my nose, as well as the century old bricks and wood of the very building itself. It smells more like home to me than my actual house. How sad.  
"Your regular?" Larry says to me in his normal, no-nonsense tone of voice. I look at him. He's a very regular looking sort of man, with slightly thinning brown hair and a slightly growing middle.  
"Yeah. Better make it two, actually."  
"Another one of those evenings?"  
"You better believe it." I look around the bar as he gets my wine. Mostly the regulars: John, Carlos, and Jerome, along with a few others that just happened to wander in for a minute to rest, or for some other purpose. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a flash of red. I turn and look, and she hits me like a pound of bricks.  
A woman sits at the other end of the bar. I've seen her in here before one or two times, but she's never been this close to me. The red I saw was her hair. It glows softly in the dim light of the lamps hanging overhead, looking as if she has a crimson halo about her. The tan overcoat she has on hides most of her, but what I can see is stunning. One long leg sticks out of the coat, covered by a long pair of black pants. On her feet is a pair of strappy green heels, fitting her small feet perfectly. The collar of her shirt protrudes a bit from the coat. It's a deep shade of green that matches the color of her hair in a very attractive sort of way.  
As I look at her, the image of Lila passes behind my eyes. Amazing...they're almost identical...but I shake the thought of her away, and approach this incredibly sexy woman.  
Thoughts of what to say flash in the area where I assume my brain resides. All I know is, when it comes to things like this, the concept that I have a brain is very questionable. "Hey, nice night." No, that didn't even work for Sid, a considerable lady's man. "Where have you been all my life?" No, that's insulting, it's so bad. "How's it going?" No, that kind of line never works with a lady like this. So I say the simplest thing I can think of.  
"Hey." I smooth my hair and hope I look halfway descent.  
"Hey yourself." She looks up at me, and smiles. She's beautiful when she smiles, this woman. I bet she's beautiful even when she cries. "Wanna sit down?" I do.  
"So, what's your name?" Easy question. I know her name. It's Lila. No, wait. This isn't Lila. She just looks like Lila.  
"I'm Leslie. And yourself?" Leslie? Are you sure it's not Lila, I want to ask her.  
"Arnold. Pleasure to meet you."  
"Likewise."  
"Can I get you something to drink?"  
"That would be lovely"  
  
~~*~~  
  
We talk for hours on end, about this and that. The longer I know this woman, the more she reminds me of Lila. She's sweet, considerate, sophisticated, not to mention very attractive. At 11, Larry announces closing time. I look up, confused.  
"Closing time? How long have we been sitting here?"  
"Four hours. You know, you should talk to people more often. You drink less that way." Larry says to me as I pay him. Leslie stands up, picks up her purse, and walks towards the door.  
"Hey, Leslie?"  
"Yes, Arnold?" she says in a sweet tone of voice.   
"I was just thinking…do you want to take a walk with me?" Please, Lord, let her say yes.  
"Why not?" I approach her, and together we walk out the door.  
As we stroll around Central Park, I take another look at Leslie. You know, it really is uncanny how much she looks like Lila, and it really is killing me. That woman…no, that she-devil…but enough about her.   
I've really got to get over her. That woman needs to get out of my head, no matter how much she hurt me. Helga said something about that once, a long time ago, back in high school. "No matter how much one hurts you, you can't let it get you down. If they hurt you, you have to do what's best for you. Even if you love them…" One would never think that Helga was so wise about such things.   
There's another girl who's frequently on my mind. Helga and I were never...involved, not like Lila and I. We were just friends. She finally started being a little less hostile in middle school, but when my grandmother died in our sophomore year of high school, she came out of her shell to help me. She's always been like that, I guess. She was hostile until something important, or something crucial happened. When that happened, it didn't matter who it was, she just dropped the front a little and said just the right thing, or lent a bit of her never-ending supply of strength.   
So we became friends, and let me tell you, after Gerald she was the best friend I've ever had. I discovered how intelligent, passionate, and dependable she was. I thought of asking her out a few times, in those month-long periods where Lila broke up with me. But, of course, I never could work up the courage, and I didn't really want to ruin our delicate friendship. So after high school we went our separate ways. I know she went to NYU to pursue her dream of becoming a writer. She's actually become really successful, what with two books of poetry out and a third with a pending release next month. It's too bad we don't talk to each other anymore.  
Back to the situation at hand. Leslie and I are simply strolling around Central Park, not even speaking anymore. I'm incredibly comfortable with her, but a little nagging voice in the back of my mind keeps popping up. I don't even know what it's trying to tell me.  
"You wanna sit down for a while?" I hear myself ask Leslie.  
"Sure" comes the obvious reply. We find a bench and just sit, Leslie starring up at the sky, me starring at Leslie. I still can't believe how much she looks like Lila. She's so incredibly gorgeous, I can't control my impulses anymore, and so I don't even try.  
I move in and kiss her. To my surprise, she kisses me back. Well, that's a plus.  
As I pull back, I take another long look at her, drawing her in with my eyes. She really does look so much like Lila…  
Just like Liana did...  
And Elisa...  
And Carli...  
And just about everyone else I've dated in the last three years.  
"Wait." I say, standing up suddenly. She scoots back on the bench, surprised at my unexpected movement. "I can't do this."  
"You can't?" She says. A very odd expression is portrayed on her face, which makes me think that she can read my mind.  
"No, I can't. You see, it's not you I'm in love with."  
"It's not?" She arches an eyebrow, and crosses her hands over her chest. Funny. Her doing something so unLila-like.  
"No. You see, I have a...problem."  
"Really?" What is that peculiar tone in her voice?  
"You see, three years ago, I was in love with a woman."  
"It happens."   
"No. Not with this woman. I had been dating her on and off in high school. She constantly dumped me and drew me back in again. In college we actually became exclusive."  
"Ah."   
"Well, three years ago, I found out that she had been sleeping with just about every man in town. I told her that it was over, but she ended up manipulating me again. I trusted her, and she stole most of what I owned. I was heartbroken. But I still loved her. To the point of obsession, I guess. So for the last three years, I've been attracted only to women who look like her." I gaze at Leslie, and her eyes meet mine. She looks at me with understanding, yet unpitying eyes. Why didn't I notice her eyes before? They aren't green like Lila's; they're a remarkably deep blue that resembles the color of sapphires. "And you look almost exactly like her."  
"Do I?"  
"I've just now realized...I can't do that. It's not good for me, and it's not fair to you. I can't love someone only because they remind me of someone else. A friend told me once that you have to do what's best for you, because only you know what's right for you. If that makes any sense at all"  
"Perfect sense."  
"So, I have to let go of Lila. I have to get back to my life." I stare at the sky, watching the clouds shift in a never-ending dance around the moon.  
"Sure took you long enough to figure it out, Arnoldo." Wait, what? I look back at Leslie, only to see her smiling sardonically at me. She stands, reaches up to the nape of her neck, and slides the ever-so-perfect Lila hair off her head. Long blonde locks come tumbling out, spilling over her shoulders and down to her waist. She shakes her hair out, then whips the overcoat off. The green shirt quickly follows. I cover my eyes, still not quite grown out of the modest Arnold ways, but uncover them when I realize that she's wearing a pink shirt underneath. The woman stretches slightly, and places her hands on her hips.  
"He-Helga!?!?"  
"Who'd you think I was?"  
"What...Why...I'm so confused!"  
"Not surprisingly."  
"So, you're Leslie?"  
"It would appear that way, Football Head." She uses her childhood name for me, but not in the way she used to. When she was nine, she used it as an insult. Now, she uses it like a slightly affectionate nickname. How odd.  
"Why?"  
"Arnold, I don't know if you've forgotten everyone else on the planet, but I do live in New York. I saw you, and, well…I had to do something." She looks away, slightly red in the cheeks.  
"Did that something include disguising yourself and stalking me?"  
"Well excuse me for trying to help you!" She turns away angrily  
"Hey, Helga?"  
"What?"  
"Thanks."  
"No problem, Football Head." She picks up her coat and purse, and turns to leave.  
"Hey, Helga?"  
"Yeah, Football Head?"  
"Can I...walk you home?" I look at her, hoping for an answer.  
"Sure Arnold." I take her coat, and we start off in the direction of her apartment. You know, I've never realized that she lives here…or that I like blonde hair much more than red.  
"Where'd you get the wig?"  
"Well, in my business, you get to know a lot of people."  
"I guess so."  
"Hey Arnold?"  
"Yeah?"  
"When did you get so tall?"  
"What, weren't you watching during high school?"  
"Watch a football head like you? Why would I want to do that?"  
"Because you watch everyone."  
"Better than watching one person forever, Mr. Googly-Eyes!"  
"You're one to talk! I know from a very reliable source you had your eyes on someone!"  
"Oh yeah? Who then, football head?"  
"Um...I didn't find that part out"  
"Ha! Typical football headed-ness! You probably never will find out..."  
  
~*~  
The pair's voices faded into the night as they walked away from the bench. Little did Helga know, Arnold would find out…  
And he would be quite pleased with his findings.  
FIN.  
  
So how'd you like it? I wrote this at ten on a Friday night, so don't be surprised by it's horribleness. I got the idea from an Usher song of the same name. Here it is:  
Yo, I ain't seeing you in a minute, but I got something to tell ya, listen.  
See the thing about you, that caught my eye,  
Is the same thing that makes me change, my mind.  
Kinda hard to explain, but girl, I'll try.  
You need to sit down, this may take a while.  
You see, she sorta looks, just like you.  
She even smiles, just the way you do.  
So innocent, she seemed, but I was schooled  
I'm reminded when I look at you, but,  
You remind of a girl, that I once knew.  
See her face whenever I, I look at you.  
You won't believe all of the things that she put me through.  
This is why I just can't get with you.  
Thought that she was the one for me,  
Til I found out she was on her dream,  
Oh, she was sexing everyone, but me.  
This is why we could never be.  
You remind of a girl, that I once knew.  
See her face whenever I, I look at you.  
You won't believe all of the things that she put me through.  
This is why I just can't get with you.  
I know it's so unfair to you,  
But I'd be lingering the rest to you,  
Wish I knew, wish I knew how to separate the two  
You remind me, whoa...  
You remind of a girl, that I once knew.  
See her face whenever I, I look at you.  
You won't believe all of the things that she put me through.  
This is why I just can't get with you.  
You remind of a girl, that I once knew.  
See her face whenever I, I look at you.  
You won't believe all of the things that she put me through.  
This is why I just can't get with you.  
  
By the way, I don't own Usher. Or his music. Or his lyrics. Or a set of flying monkeys. (wish I had that last one, though) See ya!  
May your day be one without shadows...  
~White Moon Goddess 


End file.
